a Voice with a face
by silentsky93
Summary: A one-shot. Max confronts the voice, in person. But the circumstances are not at all as she thought.


"Do you know where you are?"

"No."

"Is it cold?"

"Yes."

"As expected. Can you hear me?"

"Why -"

"Only yes or no."

"Yes."

"Can you see?"

"No."

"Open your eyes."

Max did as commanded.

She found herself at a bleak, barren park. She stood dead center on a round, cracked concrete mosaic, a sacrificial offering to whatever may have been waiting. Five sidewalks branched out in perfect uniformity from the slab, all around her.

The voice stepped behind her. Literally.

For the first time,the voice's physical form was only a breath away.

"I have one more question," the voice asked, "Are you dreaming?"

Max didn't answer.

The voice waited, coat flapping in the empty wind, until she obeyed.

"I don't know," Max said, "It feels like it's a dream, but it feels real, just as much."

She looked to the sky. It was grey, the skeletal hands of tree branches looming just above her.

"You need to chose a path, Max. It doesn't matter which one. Please. You need to see."

"See what?"

"You will understand soon."

She walked ahead, taking the sidewalk until it ended.

"I don't see why I'm answering to you," Max chided, "I know you're here, but I still can't see your face. I don't know if you're young, old, man, woman... I can't even tell if you're taller than me or not."

"I'm sorry," the voice said, with a tone deep in remorseful guilt, "I can only imagine that this must be hard for you."

Max stopped. The voice she knew was all-knowing, maybe something of an arrogant bastard at times when it smugly chose to reveal nothing.

It never admitted fault.

"This is different now, Max" the voice said, stopping behind her in acknowledgement of her thoughts.

Max went forward, finding a play area where a worn, tired mother rested on a bench as two boys raced across a play structure, laughing as they sparred with long sticks.

"One of them is the son, the other a friend," the voice noted, "Can you guess which is which?"

"Yeah," Max said, after a pause, "The one with dirty-blond-ish hair is the son. The one with glasses. He looks like the woman, kinda."

"You're very correct," the voice said, giving a smile that was more felt than seen.

Then, it ended.

Not in the way Max could have expected, though.

Two uniformed guards entered, with cold, heavy AK-47's slung across their back.

The boys stopped playing.

The woman stood, gathering in firm resolve, bringing her spent form between the children in the guards. She raised her arms to each side in a stance, and that was all that needed to be done to boldly speak: _not today._

But there was a firing of the gun, a scream of the children, and she was no more. And so she fell.

The guards grabbed the screaming son into their arms, only taking moments to chloroform him before hoisting him over a shoulder and taking him away.

"NO!" Max screamed, leaping forward.

The voice placed a hand on her back.

"You can't."

"You expect to stop me?" she burst out, "I'm not letting those bastards get away with this, I'm not going to stand here and-!"

"Even if you were anything more than nothing in this world, you would only end up just like her."

"But I'm stronger than that!"

The voice shook it's head, taking on the solemnity of an adult trying to explain death to a child.

"You're not," the voice said, "because you are her, as she is you."

Max shook her head, trembling.

"No... no... this can't be..."

The voice placed both hands softly on her shoulders.

"But... it hasn't happened yet... no.... if that's me... then it hasn't happened..."

"Look at me, Max."

Max looked into the voice's face, and began to cry.

The voice wore an ornately painted, black and white mask, looking like a demon of ancient folklore.

The voice removed the mask.

There stood a young Asian man, no older than 23. He was mildly heavy-set in build, but with handsomely set features. He could have been anyone. The average college student. The young office worker. The intern. Anyone but the invasive voice that always spoke to her within her own head.

"Max... what if I told you...that you're already dead?"


End file.
